


Tumblr Prompts and Shorts

by nyagosstar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/pseuds/nyagosstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all of my tumblr prompts and short pieces, to date. Check chapter notes for individual description, pairings, etc.</p>
<p>Mostly Bull/Dorian but the occasional other pairing as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Do you still love him?", anonymous.
> 
> Bull/Dorain, modern AU

“Do you love him?”

Dorian jerked as a giant of a Qunari dropped into a seat next to him.

The party was mostly over. All the important people had gone home hours ago, only family and close friends remained. It was bittersweet, watching Felix dance with Iulia, the two of them tucked together like there was no one else in the world. Bitter because he would never get to have his dance before family and friends, sweet because it was Felix, who was alive and thriving and happy. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He took another sip of champagne and then set the empty glass on the floor at his feet. His eyes slid over to his companion who looked about a second away from bursting out of his tuxedo. “How did you even get into that?” he asked.

“They had to sew me in.”

Dorian leaned in to examine the line of visible, if neat stitching at the right shoulder up to the collar. “Impressive.” He looked around for another waiter with more alcohol, but they seemed to have ended glass service for the evening. “I don’t remember you from the ceremony.”

“I’m with security for the event. The Iron Bull,” he held out a hand. He had a nice grip, firm, not overly tight with some show of muscle- laden showmanship. “But you can call me Bull.”

“Bull,” Dorian let the name roll off his tongue. “Well, you’ve certainly done a bang up job for the evening. No murders, no blood. I think it might be a first of the season. Mind you,” he drew in a breath and leaned back in his chair. “There’s still some night left.”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing another wedding in Tevinter. Worse than running security for the Ferelden royal family.” Bull reached into his pocket and Dorian tensed, but Bull only pulled out a white handkerchief. He leaned over and dabbed at the corner of Dorain’s eye. “You have a smear.” He pulled back, studied Dorian’s face and then nodded, satisfied.

It was a challenge, but Dorian didn’t reach up to touch his face. He’d stopped checking his countenance hours ago. Hopefully whenever his eyeliner had wandered, it had done so after Dorian’d spoken with the Archon. “A body guard and a gentleman. I’m overwhelmed.” He snapped his mouth shut as soon as the words were out. He’d been so careful all evening in deference to Felix’s day.

Instead of taking offense, or perhaps reporting him to the wedding planner, Bull grinned, all teeth. “Always happy to help out a pretty face.” He stood and Dorian jumped up with him. “I’m on detail for another two hours, but then the rest of my night is my own.” He pressed the handkerchief, smudged with black, into Dorian’s hand and walked away, hand up to his ear piece. The outline of his shoulder holster should not have been so devastating.

Dorian unfolded the handkerchief and found a paper with a phone number tucked inside. He could last two more hours.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU prompt thing 38: I would love to see some Felix and Krem action.
> 
> Krem/Felix, Modern AU, police officer Felix

Krem rounded the corner and saw the cop car, but not in time to slow down. He eased off the gas, just in case, but it was a long stretch of road without much traffic. When the cruiser pulled out behind him and the lights went up, Krem swore, put on his turn signal, and pulled over.

He dug through the glove box looking for his paperwork and jumped when someone knocked on the window. He looked up and swore again. “Felix—“

“License and registration, please.”

He couldn’t find his insurance card, though he remembered shoving it into the car when the new card came in the mail. “Are you kidding me?”

“Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”

“It’s been a long day, can we not do this, please?” He just wanted to go home and forget about the shouting match with the Chief, drink some shitty Ferelden beer, and go to sleep. There was nothing in him at the moment to admire the line of Felix’s throat in the collar of his uniform or the sharp fit of his trousers.

Felix leaned down. “I clocked you at seventy-five. This is a fifty mile an hour zone. I could tow your car. That kind of speed is just reckless.”

Krem found the card, creased and crumpled in the back of the glove box and handed everything over in an untidy pile.

“I gave you an envelope for your documents, you know,” Felix said as he flipped through the papers.

Krem could see the envelope. It was empty, torn and covered in shoe prints on the floor of the passenger’s side. He thought he’d used it to write down a phone number some time last week, and there was a corner missing that he’d used to get rid of some gum.“Yeah.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Krem leaned forward until his head hit the steering wheel. For a moment, he wondered if Felix would chase him down if he just started driving. But Krem knew the answer. When Felix returned, he had two tickets and Krem’s papers. Krem took them with more force than necessary and threw everything in the seat next to him. “You know I’m just going to get Dorian to take care of these tomorrow?”

“What you do after I deliver the ticket isn’t within my control.” He paused and leaned through the window to brush his fingers over Krem’s cheek. “Are you all right?”

“It’s been a shit day. I just want to go home. When are you done?”

“Not till late, I switched with Sera, remember?”

Krem heaved out a sigh, nothing worse than being miserable and alone. “Right. Be safe, okay?”

Felix usually didn’t kiss him when he was in uniform, but Krem must have looked particularly pathetic because he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Krem’s forehead. “Drive safe and text me when you get home, okay?”

Krem stayed within the speed limit the rest of the way, but he let the cats curl up on Felix’s side of the bed. He texted pictures of them spreading their fur all over Felix’s pillow in retribution and felt a tiny bit better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @thekingofcarrotflower asked: If you're doing Adoribull Prompts this week: Bull accidentally hurts a Charger during training or a mission, and is in a bad place after with the reminder of him being a dangerous Tal-Vashoth
> 
> Bull/Dorian, hurt/comfort

When they finally rode through the gates of Skyhold, Dorian let out a sigh of relief. He was happy to hand over his mount and collect an appropriate amount of sympathy from Bull. He was bandaged from neck to shoulder and had his arm in a sling, though it looked worse than it actually was.

“I sidestepped when I should have ducked. Lucky for me, bandits haves shitty archers.” The arrow sunk into the soft flesh between his shoulder and collarbone, and every step his horse took the entire ride back to Skyhold had been a little jolt of pain.

Bull skimmed his shoulder with delicate fingers, not really touching. “If you hadn’t moved it would have gone through your throat.” His voice was low and tight and he rested his hand at the base of Dorian’s throat where Dorian could feel his pulse against Bull’s touch.

“Ah, but I’ve been assured that a good archer would have anticipated my movement. Sera promised that she would have finished the deed.” A shudder ran through Bull and Dorian patted his arm with his good hand. “No need to worry, though I do have to see the healers,” he nodded to the sad little collection of tents. “Come sit with me and hold my hand?”

Bull looked at the tents like they were about to attack him. “I can’t. I’ll see you when you’re released.” He kissed Dorian’s temple and then stalked off to the back stairs beyond the stables.

Evelyn came up and hooked her arm through his good one. “Are you two on the outs?”

“I didn’t think so.” He wanted to follow after Bull, but Evelyn’s steady pull put him in range of a healer. He was directed to the second tent and found Krem sitting on a stool next to Rocky who was asleep, lying flat out. Dorian’s stomach turned.

“You’re back.” Krem kept his voice low.

Dorian lingered at the entrance to the tent. “What happened?”

“It wasn’t the Chief’s fault, wasn’t anybody’s fault, really. Bad timing and a slippery field. Chief’s taking it pretty hard, though. Healers say Rocky’s going to be fine, won’t lose the arm and should have back most of his range of motion.”

Dorian swore and then turned out of the tent. Though he’d been looking forward to having something more permanent done about his wound, it could wait. It had already waited two days, a few more hours wouldn’t make much difference.

Bull wasn’t in the tavern and he wasn’t in his room. The one time Dorian wanted to find Cole, the spirit was missing from his usual haunt and couldn’t provide any leads. Not to be denied, Dorian when up through to the wall and stalked to Cullen’s office.

“Have you seen Bull in the last quarter hour?”

Cullen was standing behind his desk, hands planted on either side of a map. “What?” He looked up. “Oh, you’re back. I thought you weren’t due until tomorrow.”

“The Inquisitor thought it best to push through. Bull?” he reminded.

“I haven’t seen him. Should you be up and about?”

Dorian would have shrugged if the movement wasn’t so painful. “It’ll keep. Can I ask you a question?” When Cullen nodded, he pressed on. “How common are training accidents?” Among mages in every circle Dorian had ever been in it was an almost daily occurrence. That many people all at different stages of their development, all trying to best each other or develop new types of magic. It was shocking that the buildings themselves sustained so little damage.

Cullen abandoned his study of the map and straightened, rolling his shoulders back. “It happens all the time. Just this morning I had to send a new recruit to the healers for a broken nose.”

“What about you? Have you ever hurt someone?”

“I cut off a man’s pinky once. He brought up his hand to wave at someone as I brought down my sword. Nasty business. He didn’t believe it was an accident. He kept leaving knives in my bed and they had to transfer him once he tried to put ground glass in my food.” Cullen’s fond smile turned sour. “That sounded less creepy in my head.”

Dorain waved him off and thanked him for his time before continuing his search. Bull wasn’t in the great hall, wasn’t in the library, but Dorian did find him, finally in Dorian’s own room. “I should have looked here first.” He was winded and a little light headed, but it didn’t stop him from closing the distance between them to wrap his free arm around Bull’s waist and shove his head against his muscled chest.

“You should be with the healers.” But Bull’s arms crept around him, careful of his injury, and kept him in place.

Dorian hummed in agreement, but didn’t move. “I saw Krem. He said Rocky’s going to be fine.”

Bull’s arm spasmed into a too-tight hold for just a moment before he relaxed. “I know. Doesn’t make it any better. I’m dangerous.”

That Dorian laughed, long and loud, was not his proudest moment.

“Stop it.” Bull stepped back. “You should be afraid of me. I can’t control myself.”

“You’re an idiot and there’s no talking to you when you’re like this.” He pointed at Bull and then dug his finger into Bull’s chest. “I am not afraid of you. I have never been afraid of you.” Dorian was suddenly tired—saddle sore, battle sore, and aching. “You’re just as likely to go mad as I am to become an abomination. We can’t spend our lives living in fear.” He’d done that, done thirty years of that and he wasn’t doing it anymore. He knew what Bull needed to hear, though. “But I promise you, I swear, if the time comes that you are out of control, I will take care of you myself.” Bull had promised him the same after their physical trip into the Fade.

Bull nodded, some of the tension draining out of his stance. “You should really be with the healers.”

“I would be, but someone made me chase them all over the fucking fortress. I’ll just take myself back, shall I?” A multitude of stairs awaited him and he was exhausted at just the thought.

“I’ll take you.”

“You sure?”

Bull kept one steadying hand on the small of Dorian’s back and opened the door with the other. “Yeah. I’m good.” He wasn’t, but given a little time, Dorian thought he would be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @heronfem asked: Adoribull prompt Sunday- Diamonds and Rust, by Joan Baez
> 
> Bull/Dorian, Rilienus visits Skyhold.

The thing about Rilienus was that, now Dorian knew better, he wasn’t very nice when they were together. When they parted ways, Dorian thought he was losing something great. That they were the most tragic lost-love story of their age and he would never again have something so profound.

Only, Rilienus liked to say things to make Dorian angry and then call him childish when he spoke out. He liked to poke at all of Dorian’s weak spots because Dorian had been foolish enough to share them. He liked to harass Dorian until he was in tears and then tell him how pretty he looked when he cried.

It was kind of a shit relationship. But it was the first one that was all his. It wasn’t until Bull, to whom he was more than an accessory, to whom he actually mattered, that he understood how destructive they were. Other than the occasional dream and the little blip of a conversation with Cole, Dorian didn’t think about him much. He was building a life post-Corypheus with the Inquisition and their relationship ended long ago.

Which was why it was such a surprise to see Rilienus as part of a retinue from Tevinter. He was dressed in long robes of rich green and gold, his family colors, and he hadn’t aged well at all. Lines were sunk deep around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. His hair was mostly grey. There was a stoop to his shoulders. The years that Bull wore with grace and that Dorian was coming to accept hung on Rilienus like an anchor.

They didn’t have a chance to speak before the start of the formal dinner, but ended up across the table from each other, just down from Evelyn. Around them, polite, quiet conversation flowed, but they traded stares in silence. For his part, Dorian didn’t know where to start.

Under the table, Evelyn kicked at his ankle. “Rilienus, I understand you knew our Dorian in his youth.” As always, she was too nosy.

“Yes, we were _quite_ well acquainted.” Perhaps he thought to embarrass Dorian with his implication of their affair, but his friends in the Inquisition knew far worse things about him than his time with Rilienus. “When I heard you were part of this, I had to come see for myself.” As if Skyhold was a tourist destination and Dorian some exotic animal. “And how do you find the south, Dorian?”

The doors to the hall opened and Bull strode in, cleaned up for the evening. A handful of the Tevinter guests weren’t quick enough in hiding their reaction to Bull’s presence and drew back in alarm. Dorian just smiled up at him as Bull took his seat to Dorian’s right.

“Sorry I’m late.” Bull twined his fingers through Dorian’s and then lifted their hands to his mouth to press a quick kiss against Dorian’s knuckles. Such an easy, open, sincere show of affection. Just a year ago it would have been enough to send Dorian running from the room in fear and embarrassment. But Bull had the patience of a mountain and never pushed harder than Dorian could take.

Across the table, Rilienus looked shocked and not a little repulsed. Dorian had no idea what he’d ever seen in the man. “The south?” Dorian squeezed Bull’s hand. “I find it suits me just fine.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tikaon asked: 
> 
> Adoribull Prompt Sunday: "I've been thinking... About kids."
> 
> Bull/Dorian, Modern AU

Sunday mornings were Bull’s favorite. The one day of the week they were both guaranteed to be home. Dorian made breakfast, they read through news stories and chatted about their week. Dorian put off grading assignments and Bull left his work in the office. Later in the day there would be shopping and errands, maybe a visit with friends, but the morning was just for them.

“So, we’re pretty settled here, right?”

Dorian looked up from his eggs. “Hmmm?”

“I mean, we’re not going to be moving any time soon.” Bull set down his fork and tried not to be distracted by Dorian in his glasses and rumpled hair, his face open and relaxed, before he put up his walls for the outside world. Twice he’d meant to start this conversation and twice he’d let himself be distracted.

Dorian looked around their little house with its custom kitchen and wide windows. “I don’t think so. I like it here, the university’s been good to me.”

“Right. So. I’ve been thinking…about kids.”

Dorian turned back to his tablet. “Oh, yeah? Interns could be a really good asset for you guys. You should really pay them, though.”

“No, I meant kids for us. Our kids.”

Dorian went very still, then turned off this tablet and set it aside. “Our kids?” he repeated slowly. “We don’t have kids.”

“But we could, now. We’re settled. If that’s something you wanted.” They’d talked about it a bit when they first started seeing each other, when Dorian was still adjuncting between three different schools just to make rent. They’d both framed it as a ‘one day’ thought, if they had time and means.

“Huh. How would that, it’s not like we can pick up an urchin from a street corner.”

Bull sat back and made an effort not to cross his arms over his chest. “I don’t think you’re supposed to call them urchins, anymore. But there are ways, we could find a surrogate or foster. We have enough space and the business practically runs itself. Krem could handle most of the day to day details while I stayed home.”

“You’ve thought about this. A lot.”

Bull shrugged, and started to regret bringing it up. Other than their early conversation, Dorian never mentioned it. That should have been clue enough for Bull. Dorian wasn’t shy about asking for the things he wanted. Not anymore. “It doesn’t matter.” He went back to his own tablet and tried not to feel some of the shine had worn off the morning.

“Do you really think they would let us? Adopt, I mean?” He pulled his glasses from his face, his eyes far away. “Neither one of us is from here and if they run even a basic search on my name there are all manner of articles from home about what a terrible person I am.”

“We can have our friends write character letters. It wouldn’t be so bad.” He watched as a slow, shy smile spread across Dorian’s face. “Did you think it would be a problem?”

“I never really let myself think about. If you think we can do it though, we should look into it. This place could do with a little more noise and mess.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @Justjasper asked: adoribull prompt sunday! before demands of the qun (or after, if the alliance was upheld), bull's ben-hassrath intelligence indicates that the qunari know about his 'involvement' with dorian.
> 
> Bull/Dorian, Dorian has a personal crisis

Dorian finds Bull at the Herald’s Rest writing letters. By the time Dorian joins him with a tankard of ale for them each, he’s just finishing up his last letter and setting it aside for Leliana’s review.

“Dear Arishok,” Dorian says as he drops into a seat by Bull’s side. “Today I drank an entire cask of ale. The south field continues to be muddy and there is still a hole in the ceiling of the Commander’s office/bedroom. Kisses from Skyhold, The Iron Bull.” He takes a drink and frowns. He forgets every time that he doesn’t really like the sour, bitter brew. The only reason he continues to drink it is because it’s plentiful and cheap.

Bull laughs, as Dorian intended, and drains half of his tankard in one go. “It’s a little more comprehensive than that. And the Arishock prefers hugs to kisses.”

“My mistake.” Dorian’s never been all that interested in the information Bull sends home. He figures it’s pretty much a run down of what happens to the Inquisitor while traipsing through the Hinterlands or gossip he collects on the road. Or the basic parts of Bull’s day to day existence, none of which are all that interesting. Except. “Do you write about us?”

“Not the explicit details, but they know we’re seeing each other.”

The door to the tavern bangs open and a handful of the Chargers amble in. Dorian feels caught, trapped, like he can’t get enough breath. He stands and shoves his tankard toward Bull. “Finish this for me? I just remembered I have a meeting.” He doesn’t wait to hear Bull’s reply can’t even look at him because he’s afraid of what he’ll see. All he knows is he needs to get out.

The open air in the courtyard isn’t enough. He rushes down the stairs to the lower courtyard, his hand pressing firm against the wall to keep him from stumbling and heads out the main gate. The guards look concerned at his exit, but he waves them off; it’s safe enough just outside the walls. He stumbles off the main path through the sparse forest to a little area some of the soldiers cleared out. There’s a circle of smooth rocks for sitting, a fire pit, and solitude.

Bull, of course, finds him long before his thoughts stop swirling. He sits on the other side of the pit, his long legs thrust out before him. He doesn’t look comfortable, but he doesn’t complain, either. “You worried about the letters?”

Dorian shakes his head. “Of course not.” It’s so easy to forget what Bull is, when he’s being funny or kind. When he coos with Cole over rabbits or kisses Dorian in the dark. Bull is a spy, and he’s only working for the Inquisition because he’s been ordered to by Par Vollen. When the tide turns, or when they win, Bull will go off to the next mission.

Dorian isn’t afraid of the letters or what’s in them. He doesn’t worry about how they might be used against him at some future time. He’s shaken instead by the thought that, once Bull leaves, there will be a permanent record somewhere that for a little while Dorian mattered. For a short time, they had something significant.

That is what leaves him breathless and trembling. The end is coming. Bull will leave. And the only ones who will ever know, don’t know enough of love to understand how much it matters.

“I just needed some air.”

Bull can read the lie, they both know it, but he’s kind enough to let it rest between them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Adoribull Sunday Prompt – Adoribull – Vashoth!Dorian Qunari! Bull – Demands of the Qun.
> 
> Pretty much what it says on the tin. Bull/Dorian, Canon typical references to mages under the Qun.

When Herah asked Dorian to come help with her while Herald of Andraste thing, Dorian couldn’t say no. Not when it had been Hera’s company that got him out and Herah herself who broke the bindings on his collar and cut the thread in his lips. He would fight for her, and ignore the comments for her, but when she said she was going to meet with The Iron Bull it was too much. He couldn’t breathe, air caught against the long gone collar as the scars on his lips ached like they were fresh.

“He’s not like us, Herah. He’s Qunari, Ben Hassrath.” All Vashoth knew of The Iron Bull. “He’ll take us back.” His hands shook and he shoved them into the sleeves of his tunic to hide the movement. “You can’t.”

“Taashath, imekari,” she said, though he had not been a child for a long time. “I won’t let anyone harm you. I swear. I’m going to listen to what he has to say and if it seems dangerous, he can stay on the Storm Coast.” She stroked his arm. “Try not to worry.”

*

The Iron Bull ended up being nothing at all like Dorian expected. He was loud and brash where Dorian thought he would stick to the shadows. He was overtly sexual in the way not found among Qunari. And he had no problem at all with Dorian. Herah kept them on separate missions for a while, but pulled Dorian aside as they were prepping for Emerald Graves.

“I need Bull with us.”

“All right.” Dorian kept packing. A second set of robes took up precious space, but his did end up so often covered in blood. It was worth the extra weight, he decided, and folded them into his pack.

She wandered his room, stopping at his mirror to check her own profile and then picked up his nearly empty horn balm tin. “I know you’re wary of him, but I think he’s proven himself.”

He tucked the tin away next to his comb. “I said it was fine.” He could be civil if Bull could.

“Okay.” She sounded unsure, but let it go.

*

Fighting with Bull was as easy as breathing. While the other heavy hitters tended to forget about Dorian in a fight until their barriers fell, Bull kept an eye on Dorian at all times. When a Venatori or bandit tried to sneak around the main battle to take Dorian out, Bull broke off from his own fight to help.

If only he was as easy to be around when there wasn’t a common enemy.

“You know what your problem is?”

Across the campfire, Dorian refused to think about how handsome Bull looked. “Being captured and collared with my lips sewn shut?”

Bull had the decency to look at least a little contrite. “You’re afraid.”

As if anyone who shared a camp with Dorian didn’t know he was afraid. He paced the edged of the camp, laying glyph after glyph to alert them to coming danger, he took first watch, and sometimes second because he couldn’t sleep. And when he did sleep pulled down by exhaustion, he had screaming nightmares. Fear and Dorian were old, bitter friends. He shrugged.

“You can’t plan for the future if you’re living in fear.”

“Yeah? And do you have a lot of big plans for yourself?” Most mercenaries tried to make it to the end of a year. Under the Qun, there wasn’t much use in worrying about what was to come. There was always someone to tell you what to do next.

Bull huffed out a laugh. “Good point.”

*

“What’s going on with you and Bull?” Herah was braiding his hair. It had come loose in the last fight.

“Nothing.”

She hummed and picked out a knot. “But there could be.”

“No. Because he will go back and I would rather die than let them take me again.”

*

Dorian was waiting on the wall when the first guard came at Bull. He cast a Barrier and then swung his staff, sending the sharp blade into the man’s soft belly. Bull finished the move by throwing him and his companion over the wall.

“That seemed poorly planned.” Dorian wasn’t even sweating, though his heart was racing as Bull looked him over and closed the distance between them.

“It’s a message. How did you know?” Bull stopped with just a whisper of wind separating them.

Dorian tried to slow his heart, calm his breath, but he couldn’t. Not when Bull was so close, when he could smell the crystal grace of his horn balm and the leather of his harness. “Guard change.”

“You are a wonder,” Bull said, sliding his hands up Dorian’s chest to rest on either side of his neck, his thumbs at Dorian’s jaw, close but not binding. “Will you let me kiss you, now?”

Dorian said yes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Adoribull Sunday Prompt – Adoribull – Omegaverse – His mentor married and had a child out of love, he knew he would never find love like that for himself not truly. But he wished to have a child out of love and he wanted to world to still have something of Felix, he didn’t think how other would treat him. Especially the bull once they found out.
> 
> Bull/Dorian, not actually a/b/o, canon compliant Felix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of went at this prompt sideways. I wanted to play with the idea of Dorian caring for Felix's child, without it actually being their child. Dorian/Felix doesn't always work for me and it makes me too sad if Felix is gone.

When they stopped for the night, it was still snowing. Dorian had never been so cold in all his life. His reserves were already non-existent and if he took any more lyrium he’d be sick with it for days. Considering he couldn’t feel his feet or hands, he was starting to think it might be worth it. At least Marcus seemed content, swaddled in every spare bit cloth Dorian could find.

“A baby, huh?” The Qunari sat next to Dorian, and poked his giant finger at Marcus’ nose.

Dorian swatted the hand away. No one needed a crying child while they were on the run from a red lyrium horror. And when their savior might be buried under a mountain’s worth of snow. As it was, Marcus didn’t stir.

“He doesn’t look much like you.”

Missing Dorian’s glorious profile and dark hair, Marcus had his dead mother’s fair hair and favored his father with a face that was beloved and painful. “He wouldn’t. He’s not, well. We’re not related.” Dorian couldn’t say that Marcus wasn’t his. Felix entrusted his son to Dorian, to keep him safe from Tevinter.

With his time running out and his own father in deep with the Venatori, Felix wanted a safer place for his son, and with someone who could tell him about what it was like before the world went mad. Marcus opened his wide, dark eyes, took one look at Dorian and started fussing. If the child made it to an age old enough to hear the stories, it would be a gift. Dorian had never been good with him.

He rocked Marcus a bit, spoke to him in Tevene, but the tiny whimpers escalated with full tears. Soon, he would be wailing. Dorian closed his eyes.

“Why don’t you give him here?”

Dorian tightened his arms around Marcus convulsively. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I promise not to eat him.” He laughed, like it wasn’t something Dorian grew up hearing about the Qunari.

As the cries built, Dorian felt his resolve falter. “I don’t even know your name.”

“The Iron Bull,” he said as he scooped the baby from Dorian’s arms and lifted him up to make faces at him. Initially startled, Marcus soon forgot his upset and began laughing like The Iron Bull was the best thing he’d ever seen.

If he hadn’t been so tired, Dorian might have been a little resentful. “He seems quite taken.”

“You want to get some rest? I can take him for a bit.” The Iron Bull pointed to a fire surrounded by a group of mercenaries. “We’re just over there. You can get him after you’ve gotten some sleep. Looks like you need it.”

Dorian did not need a reminder that he must look a mess. “No, I’ll come. Can’t sleep while she’s still out there.” He heaved himself to his feet, wavered for just a moment and then trudged to the fire where they made room for him and he found himself dozing against the shoulder of a dwarf while Marcus tried his best to take hold of The Iron Bull’s horns.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Adoribull Sunday Prompt – Adoribull – Nature Boy or Gone with the Sin Inspired by either songs.
> 
> pre-Bull/Dorian, canon-typical violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually, when I get prompts on Tumblr, I try to limit myself to writing a scene or telling a complete story in about five hundred words. If it's longer than that, I keep working on it and shift it over to AO3.
> 
> In this case, I posted this piece, thinking I would continue at a later date. Here's a tip for you kids. Write down your ideas before you wander off. I wish I could remember what I had in store for the rest of this prompt, I remember really liking it, but I cannot put my finger on it. It's a shame, really, because I love the tone of this piece and wish I could continue. Sigh.

Bull doesn’t think about Dorian much when they first meet. He’s a pretty face in a sea of pretty faces and it’s kind of the end of the world, so there’s that on his mind. And it’s not like he hasn’t met repressed ‘Vints before. Tevinter’s a pretty fucked up place and folks with issues there come cheap.

It’s not until the boss starts throwing them together as part of her expedition parties that he starts to see something else. He’s a great fighter—the things he can do with fire, well. Sometimes, it seems like Dorian’s just a few steps away from being a dragon, which is pretty hot. He’s funny, too, with his constant bitching about the cold or the damp or the desert sand, but he never asks for a break, never carries less than his share.

Then there’s a fight with the Venatori that goes on for hours, just wave after wave of them. As soon as Bull thinks they’re done, another group comes out to pound on them. It’s the closest fight Bull’s been in for a while. When the last of them is down, Bull turns to see the Inquisitor sitting on a rock, her head in her hands and her chest heaving for breath. She doesn’t look in danger, so he goes a little farther afield. Dorian’s holding Sera up with her arm slung over his shoulders, supporting both of them with a white knuckle grip on his staff. Sera looks exhausted and there’s blood dripping from her shooting fingers. Dorian’s washed out and stinks of lyrium. The shattered remains of bottles are all around him.

Bull leans down and lets Sera swing herself up onto his back. She presses her face against the crook of his neck, too tired to even swear. He holds out a hand to Dorian, who shakes his head.

“Just give me a moment.” His pale face turns green and then he’s lurching away to heave in the bushes.

Bull heads over to deposit Sera by Evelyn and then back. By the time he’s at Dorian’s side, the initial sickness seems to have passed. “Want a lift?” He jerks his thumb back to the others. Dorian’s bound to be lot heavier than Sera and his knee and ankle are going to be useless tomorrow, but it seems like the thing to do. Getting back to base camp is going to be interesting.

Dorian shakes his head. “No. I’ll be all right. Too much lyrium,” he says and spits to clear his mouth. “I’ve always been sensitive.”

“I bet,” Bull can’t help it, doesn’t even mean anything by it.

“Yes, ha fucking ha. Let’s pick on the vint while he’s literally puking in the bushes.” Dorian draws himself up, like he’s about to stalk away and then turns around as his stomach rebels again. When he’s done, he looks too tired to be pissed, but he shakes off Bull’s offer of help. “I can do it.” He uses his staff like a cane, his steps wavering and uneven, but he makes it to the Inquisitor and Sera and collapses at their feet, his head coming to rest against Evelyn’s knee where she slides her fingers into his hair.

Bull’s not sure why his wishes it was his knee Dorian was resting on, or his hands curled in Dorian’s hair.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @theladylily asked: Adoribull Sunday Prompt – Sad Adoribull – Dalish gets sick before going to the Storm Coast, and since is not going to Storm Coast with the Inquisitor and he has grown fond of the Charges, so Dorian offers to take her place and assist them, without Bull and the Inquisitor knowing.
> 
> Bull/Dorian, angst

Bull tended to spend most of his time with a small group of the Chargers, an inner circle of his own, so it was easy to forget just how many men were in his company. Dorian didn’t try to hide, exactly, but it was easy to remain unnoticed since both Evelyn and Bull thought it best if Dorian stayed behind. As if it mattered to Dorian if it was safe. So the Qun had particular ideas about Tevinter and mages. Dorian was pretty sure they had ideas about names and found families as well.

When they split up, he went with Krem up to defend the cliff. The fight was almost too easy and Dorian stayed back, providing barriers and assistance as required, though the Chargers hardly needed him. After they sent up the signal, there was a brief pause and then a second wave drove through their position. They were outnumbered and without Dorian, they would have been slaughtered.

Injuries ran high, Dorian cleared out every bottle of lyrium he had and all of his reserves by the time the last of their opponents was on the ground. He swayed and Krem caught him, his own arm bleeding freely from an arrow. They helped each other to a downed tree and waited for the Inquisition.

There was quite a bit of shouting when Evelyn discovered him, but Bull was strangely silent. It wasn’t until the camp was set and the sun was gone that he found his way to Dorian’s side. “They would have died, without you.”

Dorian shrugged. He was still feeling drained from the fight and then his argument with the Inquisitor. Maker how he hated it when she was angry with him. “Good thing I was here, then, yes?”

“It was a set up. A test of my loyalty.” Bull spoke slowly, setting out each word with great weight. “I didn’t know you were with them.”

Dorian suspected as much, but hearing Bull say it was harder than he thought. “The Qun is demanding.”

Bull was quiet for a long time, his eye unblinking and focused in the far distance. “I made a mistake today.”

Dorian wanted to tell him that it was all right. To remind him that things worked out. Promise he would be there for the days Bull made his mistakes, but he thought Bull needed his silence more.

“They have new terms. They’ll agree to the alliance if I submit myself for reeducation.”

Dorian curled his hands into fists tight enough to ache. They didn’t have the power to fight the breach and Corypheus and the Qunari all at the same time, but Dorian would take the fight to Par Vollen himself to keep Bull from their clutches.

“I’ll be Tal-Vashoth if I deny them.” His mouth twisted down into a frown and Dorian wanted to reach out and smooth the hurt away. “What was the point of all those years of fighting if I end up one of them?”

Dorian couldn’t keep away any longer. He stood and stepped into Bull’s space, breaking his concentration on the distance. He framed Bull’s face in his hands, strong muscles even in his jaw and neck. “It brought you here. The pain is only endurable because it brought us to this place. You are more than their labels, you are more than their punishment. You are not lost.”

Bull leaned into him, his head a heavy, beautiful burden. “I have to tell the boss she’s not getting her alliance.”

It was selfish, perhaps, not to care about the alliance or what Evelyn would think. There would be plenty of time for that with the dawn. “She can wait. Let us have one night of peace.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @comedygirl96 asked: I really, really enjoy your fics. If your still gifting us with your fantastic Adoribull stories do you think you could write about touch starved Dorian? I know it's kind of already out there but like specifically centered on him being touch starved.
> 
> Bull/Dorian, fluff

Dorian didn’t like to ask for things. Sure, he bitched when it was cold or wet or when his robes were covered in blood that had set to stain. He let everyone know what he was thinking pretty much all the time, talked so much it was almost easy to miss that he never said anything. And he never asked for what he wanted.

But then, Bull wasn’t paid to be observant for nothing.

He expected a flinch, the first time Bull touched him in public. They were in the Tavern spending a night playing cards and he draped an arm over the back of Dorian’s chair just to see where the limits were. Bull was good with limits; he liked knowing where the boundaries rested so that no one got hurt in a way they didn’t want.

Instead of jerking away or glaring at him for daring to touch him in public, Dorian settled into his touch. Bull was listening pretty closely and that was the only reason he caught the contented sigh that escaped him. Varric raised an eyebrow in their direction and Sera collected a handy sum from Blackwall, but no one commented and as the evening progressed, Dorian slid closer and closer until they were playing just one hand between them.

#

Bull had plenty of bed partners who liked an appreciative touch while in the midst of the act, but preferred a little distance once it came to sleeping. The first time Bull managed to convince Dorian that it was more than all right if he stayed the night, he expected there to be a wall of blankets between them, a barrier denoting space for Dorian and space for Bull.

Out in the field, if someone forgot something, unless it was a lifesaving potion, they knew not to ask Dorian to borrow. He was an only child, a spoiled child, and still was no good at sharing. He’d rather sit in camp with three stinking companions than share any one of his three bars of soap.

Curled in sleep, however, Dorian shared space like he was made for it. He attached himself to Bull’s side, moved with him as Bull moved and even in sleep arched into any stray touch. Bull stayed awake half the night running his hand through Dorian’s hair to feel him press his head against Bull’s palm. He stroked the length of Dorian’s arm to feel the curve of his smile where it rested against Bull’s chest.

When morning came, he thought Dorian would be embarrassed and try to pull away, but he just blinked up at Bull in the slowly brightening room and burrowed in closer, squeezing until it must have hurt him. But he didn’t let go, and neither did Bull until the sun was well overhead and they couldn’t ignore their responsibilities any longer.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Adoribull Sunday Prompt: Modern AU. Bull singing in Karoke "Hold Me Closer, Necromancer!" just to embarrass his man.
> 
> pre-Bull/Dorian, Modern AU

“We’re going for drinks after work. You should come.” Sera stuck her head into Dorian’s office and lobbed a paperclip into his forgotten cup of cold coffee with striking precision. “Can’t work all the time.”

“No, thanks.” He’d only been on the job for two weeks. How was it possible he was so far behind? If he worked through the weekend, he might be caught up come Monday, but it wasn’t a sure thing. Hours spent with his co-workers pretending to be comfortable didn’t fit into that plan at all.

Another paperclip went sailing and landed on his keyboard, sticking between the T and G keys. “Come on. Bull’ll be there.”

Dorian removed the paperclip and cleared his throat. “Why should I care about that?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, all swoony-like. Bet he’d buy you a drink if you came.” She waggled her eyebrows at him and he turned away.

“I really don’t have time. But I’ll think about it.”

*

They cheered his name when he followed Sera into the bar and it was possible that it was just a touch gratifying. He and Sera were the last to arrive and by the state of the table, they were already several drinks behind their co-workers. He took a seat, squeezed between Eve and Varric, as the lights dimmed and someone walked up onto the little stage at the back of the bar.

He leaned across the table, mindful of the empties. “You didn’t tell me it was karaoke.”

“Figured you wouldn’t come if you knew.” She waved him off and turned her attention instead to Dagna, stealing her glass.

Two rounds and four bad signers in, Varric got up to talk to Cassandra and Bull slid neatly into his place. “Didn’t think we’d ever get you away from your dead things.” From anyone else, it would have been the start of a fight, but Bull was loose and smiling. Dorian very purposefully didn’t look at the wide swath of chest that was visible through his practically nonexistent shirt.

“At this level of research, there isn’t any need for actual dead things. They tend to leave an odor.” He took a sip of his beer and tried to get someone, anyone to join their conversation, but they were all involved. “Do you think you’ll give it a go?” He nodded to the stage where some guy in a business suit was finishing up something Dorian didn’t recognize but was far, far out of his key.

“You want me to sing you a song?” His slow smile spread.

“That’s not—“

Bull stood and set his bottle down with a thunk, then dropped his hand to Dorian’s shoulder. It was hot through Dorian’s shirt and the edge of his finger brushed against the nape of his neck. He shivered as Bull leaned down to his ear. “If you like it, you want to get out of here?”

He looked around the table. No one was paying them any attention. Perhaps it was time he started thinking about what he wanted, instead of what was expected. “Go on then, impress me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, @stonelions did this amazing drawing of [Modern Cullen](http://stonelions.tumblr.com/post/130252811145/modern-cullen-with-some-fall-angry-dad-looks)
> 
> And then @cassandrashipsit wrote a brilliant little short about Cullen being shitty at a farmer’s market and then this happened
> 
> Dorian/Cullen, Modern AU, Kidfic

“It’s a disgrace. They’ve left the hay bales out in the rain and there are mushrooms growing in them,” Cullen fumed as he found Dorian leaning against the gate of the small animal pen. Cavan was squatting next to the rabbits, running his chubby toddler fingers through the soft white fur.

“Gentle,” Dorian called as he picked a bit of hay out of Cullen’s flannel shirt and flicked it to the ground. Their son turned and looked at them over his shoulder, his frown a perfect imitation of Dorian’s aggrieved scowl.

Some of Cullen’s irritation eased as Dorian pressed a paper cup into his hand. “They had the hot cider you like.”

He took a sip and then wrapped his hands around the warm cup, letting the heat bleed into his cold fingers. “Did you find anything else?”

Dorian held up a bag. “Horribly expensive cheese. And I think we’re probably leaving with a rabbit.” He nodded to Cavan. While the other children had moved on to pet the baby goat, Grant was still at the rabbit pen. The woman leading the tour tried to get Cavan to follow the group, but he shook his head and planted himself on the ground.

When she tried again, he shouted, “No!”

“And that’s my cue,” Dorian handed off his bag to Cullen and entered the pen. He scooped up Cavan with practiced ease and tucked the squirming toddler against his chest. Cavan fussed until he saw Cullen.

“Dada, want a rabbit.”

Cullen held up his hands. “Talk to your father.”

“Papa, want a rabbit.”

“Don’t we all, love.” But Dorian sighed and handed Cavan off to Cullen, a delicate maneuver of bags and child, then went off to talk to the woman in charge.

*

That night, in bed, long after they got Cavan down, Cullen was still restless. He turned over and when that didn’t help, he turned again. The faint scritchings of their new pet echoed down the hall

Dorian rolled into him, draped an arm over his chest and pinned him to stillness. “What’s got you up?” His voice was soft, sleep rough and warm against the back of Cullen’s ear.

“I loved growing up on the farm and I’m worried that Cavan will think that this is all there is to life. Cities and cars and traffic.”

“Nothing wrong with cities.”

“Says the city boy.”

Dorian laughed and squeezed him. “So, we take him to the farmer’s market on weekends—“

Cullen scoffed. “That’s not even real. It’s all set up to fool people who’ve never been on a farm.”

Dorian continued as if Cullen hadn’t interrupted. “And when he’s a little older, we send him to spend a week or two with your sister in the summers. He’ll get to learn how to do whatever it is you do on a farm and I’ll have you all to myself.” He nipped at Cullen’s ear. “Does that sound acceptable?”

He’d rather move out of the city, at least go somewhere with a yard, but they had jobs and friends and a life here. It seemed silly to uproot it because he was feeling restless. “It’ll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow up piece [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4923091)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Adoribull prompt: white and pink
> 
> Bull/Dorian, Modern AU, Major Character Death
> 
> I am so, so sorry for this one.

Dorian picks out the lilies with care. Stargazer, his favorite. The petals are supple and soft under his fingers, the scent just this side of cloying. They are bright and vibrant, looking up to the sky with their freckled features. The woman behind the counter doesn’t ask if he wants a vase anymore. He accepts the flowers, wrapped in delicate green tissue and heads out.

He walks past the bar where they met. Dorian, drunk on cheap Ferelden ale and sadness, chatted up the biggest, toughest looking man in the room. Little did he know that while Bull was only too happy to hold him down and tie him up, he also loved pink and flowers and delicate lace. There was so much more to him than that first impression, cheering at the bar at something on the television, Krem and Skinner on either side, slamming back their drinks.

The next block over is their favorite take-out with the marinated and sauced chicken for Dorian and the spicy spinach for Bull. On their first date, the real one that took place three months after they’d been fucking on the regular, they put away four huge servings of rice and enough bread for four people. They never ate in again, just picked up to hide their gluttony behind closed doors.

There’s the used bookstore on the corner where Dorian spends hours trawling through new arrivals. Bull made friends with the owner, so that he would have something to do and the two of them ranged in topics from one end of the store to the other. Bull said he liked Merrill’s stories, even if she was a little odd.

He climbs the stairs to their apartment. The older woman from 3-C likes to ride the elevator on the weekends and chat at the people in the building and Dorian has no patience for her today. He keys into the apartment and is struck again how a place can be so full of a person and so empty at the same time.

Under the Qun, they have no need for a body once death comes. The physical pieces of the life are collected—the weapons, the clothes, the things that can be repurposed for another person. They are remembered for their usefulness and for the things they provide to the Qunari who remain. But Bull was more than his weapons and his Kevlar. He was lace doilies and pink bathrobes. He was the stained glass window in the bathroom and the decorative candles in the dining room. He was the holiday wreath and the year round twinkling lights over the archway in the kitchen.

There are no ceremonies for the dead under the Qun, Bull left no instructions. So Dorian makes his own rituals. He goes, every week, and buys Bull’s lilies. At home he trims the stems and places them in a vase on the mantel. He arranges them so their bright, star faces lean toward the broad window and then goes to weep in their bed for all he has lost.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lackadaisical-lass asked: Adoribull Sunday Prompt: Bull and Dorian are random hostages in a bank robbery. Bull spends the whole time flirting with Dorian.
> 
> Bull/Dorian, Modern AU, threat of violence
> 
> Idk, I just really like bank robberies, guys.

“I should have stayed in the car.” The one with the gun is on the other side of the lobby and Dorian feels safe enough to shoot the words at Bull out of the corner of his mouth.

Bull gives him a fake gasp. “And leave me in here on my own?”

Dorian grunts and tests the zip ties at his wrists, but they’re tight enough to dig into his skin and cut off a little of his circulation. “It was your idea. Who goes to a bank, anymore? Old people.” He gestures to the other hostages, all pushing sixty years old. “And you.”

“I like it here. They have donuts.” There’s a little table near the entrance stocked with almost stale donut holes and instant coffee. It’s disgusting so of course Bull had both while they waited to see a banker.

“I said no talking.” The guy with the gun comes back and waves it in their face. The old lady on Dorian’s left lets out a muffled whimper and Dorian wishes the police would get it together and bust through the door already.

The guy walks away and Dorian leans in to Bull. “They also have guns, apparently. I could have done without that.”

Sirens from outside echo through the lobby and Dorian sags in relief. Their bank robbers don’t seem resilient enough to deal with a long term standoff. He wonders if he’s going to have to give a statement when it’s all over. They could be stuck here for hours.

All he wanted was a quiet day. They don’t get Saturdays off together much. He thought they could meet up for a leisurely breakfast, wander through the arboretum that Bull likes and then spend the rest of the day in Dorian’s bed. But no. Bull wanted to make some random stop at his bank. Bank transactions didn’t even count on Saturdays. “Bank transactions don’t even count on Saturdays.”

“I know.”

“Then what the fuck are we here for?”

Bull cleared his throat and looked away. The gunman was on the phone, to the police, presumably. “I wanted to put you on my bank account.”

“What?” He’s louder than he should be and the other hostages shush him.

“I just though, in case something happens or you need something. It would be nice.”

“Bull,” he whispers.

“I know you won’t move in with me—“

“Your apartment is disgusting.”

Bull doesn’t argue because Dorian isn’t wrong. “And I know you don’t want me in yours—“

“There’s not enough room for me. You can’t even fit in the bathroom.”

Again he soldiers on and Dorian can’t help but wonder if Bull practiced this speech. Did he do it in front of a mirror? Did he practice on Krem? “I thought this would be a nice gesture.” He shifts in place. “Didn’t expect the gunman, though.”

“You are ridiculous.”

The gunman starts listing his demands. Dorian thinks there might have been mention of a million dollars and a helicopter, but he’s not clear on the particulars. When everything calms down and they’re finally free, Dorian is the worst witness because all he can think about is a joint account with both of their names that fills him with more ideas for a joint future.


End file.
